


the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

by yuletide_archivist



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanity is more than it seems sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ellen m

 

 

She is human, Marisa thinks. 

Serafina Pekkala stood before her, a fierce beauty in the wind. The cave where Lyra was hidden stood behind the two women, both powerful in their own respect. There is Marisa, the woman who broke into the Authority and made her own path, who created the child the whole world's turmoil. There is Serafina, who dances on the wind with her Cloud-Pine and who breaks hearts and minds. 

She is human, Marisa thinks, as Serafina's eyes tell her the story she doesn't want to know. There is her daughter, Lyra, asleep in the cave behind them, her daughter, the daughter of Marisa Coulter and Lord Asrial, who the witches call Eve. 

Once again someone must fall if sin is to remain. If Dust is going to exist, Marisa's daughter must bite the apple and the Garden of Eden (that never existed) will never be found again. Eve falls for Adam, Eve tells Adam to eat the apple and they both get banned. It's always a woman, Marisa thinks, and says, "She doesn't even like me."

Marisa thinks about how she drugs her daughter to keep her there, how she tricked her daughter into coming with her. Her daughter hates her, and Serafina Pekkala stands before her and Marisa doesn't know what is coming, what is happening. She only knows that she must keep Lyra safe, and Serafina might be able to help. She found them, after all. 

"Most children don't understand the balance of things," Serafina says, and Marisa wonders if anyone ever does. 

"How long do you think it takes to grow up?" Marisa muses out loud. She is greeted by Serafina's sharp laugh that cuts through the air like ice in July. They are North, after all, hidden somewhere in the mountains somewhere in Asia. They are hidden as far as Marisa could take them, and Serafina found them in a cave nonetheless. 

"I wouldn't know," Serafina follows her laugh, "I am near three hundred years old and I still think I have a lot to learn."

Marisa stares at the witches' skin and doesn't see a wrinkle. She tries to see the age and wisdom that years give a woman, but she only sees a woman whose eyes meet her own. 

"She is so young," Marisa whispers, and wonders how she ever could have tried to sever Lyra from Pan, how she ever could have thought about sacrificing her own child in the name of science, in the name of anything. And here is this witch, who once had a child, who once had a love, who has lived three hundred years and still chases dreams on the back of the wind astride a branch that gives her the power of flight. 

There is a loud noise in the background, a moan, perhaps, and the golden monkey on Marisa's shoulder shudders slightly. 

"Lyra needs more medication," Marisa says worriedly. Serafina cocks her head and looks at the golden haired woman with a slight grin. 

"You will be safe here," she tells Marisa, grabbing her broom. "At least for a while. And then-"

Marisa closes her eyes, not wanting to think past the next minute, past the next hour. She knows there is only so long that she can stay with Lyra in this cave, that there is only so long she can from the world. Her daemon is a golden monkey for a reason, and surely Serafina knows that. A goose honks in the background and Serafina looks to the sky. 

"She is the one, Marisa. And everything rests on her. But she will choose, as we all choose, as we all have chosen." The witch leans toward Marisa and kisses her hard on the lips. Marisa gasps and inhales, almost choking on the cold air between her and Serafina. She doesn't know what this means, but Serafina's lips are warm and her own are cold once Serafina's lips break away. She thinks about kissing her back, craving the contact that she hasn't had since Lord Asrial, since before Lyra. 

Serafina is a dot against the sky before Marisa starts thinking about her choices, about the decisions she's made. Marisa is a woman who has taken control of her own destiny, much in the way the witch has. Marisa believes in science and power and the illusion of control, but she also believes in love. And she loves her daughter, she loves Lyra, and so does Serafina. 

The world loves Lyra, but they also hate her, and so she retreats to huddle with her child in a cave somewhere in Asia, hoping the avoid the future. Marisa feels the cold against her fair skin, brushing her hand against Lyra's hair. 

"I love you," she says, and there is nothing more true or real or honest she can say. There is nothing more to say, in the end, than those three words. And Marisa loves in a way she didn't know she could, and Serafina is flying into the wind, and Lyra will make her choice, and somehow, Marisa thinks, brushing the sweat off her child's brow, the world will keep going. 

They are all human, and they will continue on, until humanity doesn't exist. Until the end of the world - or something. 

 


End file.
